


Teen Vamp

by RickyPine



Series: Summer Vacation Trilogy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Alpha Pack, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Teen Wolf (Post-Season 2), Vampires, werelynx
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickyPine/pseuds/RickyPine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had to become a vampire in order to save his life. Now, the question is - does he remain that way, or will he turn into a werewolf? Either way, he'll never be fully human again. Further complicating the issue is his mysterious partial immunity to vampirism, which could make it impossible for him to survive a werewolf bite.</p><p>Meanwhile, Skylar and Hunter's father, Thomas Renard, is in town - and certainly not on business. He wants to bring his children home, whether they like it or not. With Derek now coming to accept both Renard siblings as members of his pack (particularly Skylar, of whom he's grown fond), Thomas will have his work cut out for him if he wants to succeed in his plans.</p><p>And then there's the ever-looming threat of Deucalion's Alpha Pack to contend with...</p><p>(Part 2 of the Summer Vacation Trilogy. This is an alternate universe fic. It is set after Season 2, and takes the first two seasons as canon, but Season 3 and onwards will not occur after the events of this trilogy. Any and all OC's are owned by me. Teen Wolf is owned by MTV, MGM, and that Grand Pabbie of Rock Troll Writers himself, Jeff Davis.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Of Us Are Human

Fueled by his morning coffee, Sheriff John Stilinski was about to head out of the house in the morning, but first he needed to check on his son.

Until now, he hadn't realized vampires were not, by default, nocturnal. That is, if Stiles counted as a vampire. He'd had to drink a real live vampire's blood almost a month ago in order to save his life, and John greatly regretted having not been there to defuse the situation before it got so dangerous and borderline-lethal.

The sun was rising outside, and unfortunately, Stiles' room had an eastern exposure. If not for John coming in early and pulling up the sheets over his son's peacefully dozing form, he would wake up every morning with some level of burns on his arms. Or, worse, his face. No need for that. What Stiles needed was rest. (It certainly helped that, according to the vampire girl who had turned him, he had yet to develop fangs, which meant he was at least partially immune or something to that effect.) So, rest, and hopefully, no more action for the rest of the summer.

Of course, this was Beacon Hills. Lately, supernatural phenomena seemed to happen at the drop of a hat, and that was when Stiles, along with his friends, would get involved. John hated being "normal" and, therefore, seemingly unable to help - not that that had stopped Stiles - but still, he felt useless when the problems occurring under his watch left the realm of rationalism and the laws of physics. Under normal circumstances, the most worrying thing he would have to deal with over the upcoming Fourth of July weekend (after Coach Finstock playing _Independence Day_ at maximum volume and yelling along to President Whitmore's speech) would be moron teenagers violating Beacon County's fireworks ban. (It was being strictly enforced this year - the ongoing drought had raised the usual threat of wildfires to apocalyptic levels.) And the most worrying thing he would deal with regarding Stiles would be the possibility of him getting into drugs or sex or whatever new and unusual vice his teen generation would have come up with.

If only all the single-dad parenting manuals had chapters on how to cope when your son was irretrievably turned into a supernatural creature. Funnily enough, on Lydia's advice (not from her counselor mother, though - she'd just read it in a book somewhere), Stiles had used a "how to come out to your parents" pamphlet as a template to explain his vampirism to his father. (Incidentally, he'd added, "Yeah, I'm also bi. Like, for real." His tone had been joking, trying to cover the mental anguish he was experiencing, but he and John both knew it was just as genuine a confession.)

John spent a few more seconds watching Stiles doze away, then he leaned down and kissed him goodbye, as he'd done every morning for almost sixteen years now. As usual, Stiles gave no reaction. Despite his tendency to talk in his sleep, he always remained suspiciously silent for this.

Two minutes later, John was on the road, driving to his office. However, he quickly found himself diverted after being alerted to a freshly-called-in crime scene somewhere on the road to Hill Valley. He arrived at the scene within five minutes, almost exactly at the stroke of six. Outside a small house stood a young man, early- to mid-twenties. He must have been the one who called it in.

As John emerged from his SUV, the young man perked up, his piercing silver eyes widening as he recognized him. "I got the Sheriff himself? Who knew this was that important, huh?"

"It was on my way," John lied. "And you are...?"

"Jordan Parrish," said the man. He shook hands with John, then added, "So...well, this wouldn't have been the first time Blue's gone and partied hard all night, then not come back till dawn, totally sh..." He paused.

"It's all right," John said. "'Shit-faced.' That's what you were gonna say, right?"

Parrish cracked a smile. "Yeah, swearing in front of authority figures, that's something I'm a little conditioned against. Not so much Blue, though. He was always getting in trouble for that in Afghanistan."

"Afghanistan?" John repeated. Parrish nodded once. "Well, thank you for your service."

"It was a rough time for us both," said Parrish. "But we were pretty well-adjusted...lucky us, I guess." He led John to the actual crime scene at last - the body of a second young man, most likely Blue, lying near the steps in front of the house's back door. As John knelt to give the corpse a cursory examination, he heard Parrish sniff loudly behind him. "Poor son of a bitch," he said. "I mean...who would've done this? And who would've been strong enough to overpower him?"

It didn't take John long to spot something promising, a potential COD. And now he knew that it was more than just a coincidence that he was the one investigating this crime. "I think I have an idea," he said to Parrish, "but you wouldn't like it."

"R-Really?" Parrish asked. "Blue needs justice. I wanna know."

"Trust me, you don't." John's lips curled as he looked down at Blue again, wondering if perhaps he'd been looking too hard. But as he looked more closely, he realized he was seeing it for real. A pair of large puncture marks on the side of Blue's neck, dark red with congealed blood.

Maybe he knew too much about what to look for, but knowing that he had a vampire in his house, John couldn't keep it out of his mind. That woman, Skylar, she couldn't be the only one of her kind. And, more than likely, she was an unusually nice one.

There just had to be a more dickish one in Beacon Hills sooner rather than later.  


	2. Love Will Tear Us Apart

*****STILES*****

Dad knows I'm only pretending to be dead to the world when he says goodbye to me every morning. But he's okay with that. It's part of the unspoken rules of this particular ritual of ours, I guess.

Hunter, on the other hand, is a born rule-breaker.

Not to mention a heartbreaker.

Just ask Danny. He'd been seeing the new werelynx in town for a week or so after his arrival, but their relationship, mostly cultivated online, had deteriorated pretty quickly. Turns out, Hunter had been moving too fast for Danny, wanting too much too soon, and Danny was too vanilla for Hunter. A terrible combo by any stretch of the imagination, wouldn't you say?

Not long after that breakup happened, he stole away from Derek's loft (where he's been staying with Skylar) in the dead of night and found his way into my bed, the crafty SOB. All we did was sleep in each other's arms, but when I woke up the next morning, I found my phone blowing up with texts from Dad: " _Enjoyed yourself last night, Stiles?_ " " _Were you careful, at least?_ " " _And I don't just mean vampire-werewolf-whatever infections, you know._ "

I mean, no way was he sending those in all seriousness. At least he didn't try to get all manly-bro on me and tell me "Congratulations" or some shit. Maybe his sheriff's sense clued him in to the fact that I was still a virgin. Still am, in fact, as of today. Hunter, it seems, has learned from his mistakes. He's not rushing to pop my cherry anytime soon. Although I think he's concerned I'm more fragile than I really am. After all, I've recently changed species and come out of the closet - that should be enough life stress for any fifteen-going-on-sixteen dude, am I right?

I won't lie, though. Hunter coming into my room, folding me into his arms and gently purring into my ear? I could do that every night. And every day, too.

Today's no exception. He comes in not long after Dad leaves - I swear, he must've been waiting for him to drive off to work - and cuddles me from behind, placing his tall, slender form between me and the sun.

"Did I tell you how much I like your new hairstyle?" he asks. I've noticed that, over time, he's been shifting his accent from English to American. I think he's been trying to copy my accent, but he's not very good at it. Points for trying, though, only because it's Hunter.

"Not much of a style," I say. "I just haven't cut it since before I was bitten." I chuckle to myself. " _Long_ before."

"Seriously." He totally morphs into an obnoxious Valley Girl on that word, but I'll forgive him because he's starting to play with my hair. Maybe it's the feline in him, but he really likes playing with anything remotely resembling a ball of yarn. "Seriously," he says, this time in a less exaggerated accent. More Buffy than Valley Girl, but still not me, if that's what he's going for. "You should keep growing it, Stiles," he says. "No offense, but your old buzz-cut made you look gawky. You're cuter than that. Show it."

"How's this?" I say. "I'll keep growing my hair out if you stop trying to hide your accent. You're cuter than that."

He breathes a theatrical sigh of relief, then switches with ludicrous precision to his natural voice, English accent and all. "Who was it who said 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?'"

"Shit, I dunno. Oscar Wilde?"

Hunter nuzzles my neck. "Are you just trying to invoke his name 'cos he's an idol to our people?"

"I thought he was gay, not bi."

"Still, he was at least one letter in LGBT."

I look up and over Hunter's head to see the window on the other side of the room closed. With that in mind, I wriggle away for a second, then climb on top of him.

"Wait," he says, suddenly breathless. "What about the-"

I place one finger on his lips, and my other hand on his chest, feeling the lean, hard muscle under his shirt. I want to say I'm approaching that level of fit myself, but that's mostly because I've eaten less in the last month, and my body fat percentage has dwindled. Not too healthy, I know. "The window's closed," I say. "No sun."

"It's not completely closed," Hunter says.

"I'll worry about that later." I move my hands to his ropy upper arms and rotate them so he's holding his hands above his head. Then I lean down and tug on his lip with both of mine, gently biting it as I do every morning to see if the fangs I'm supposed to grow have finally developed. They haven't, but I quickly forget about that as I lose myself in a sweet kiss.

This is as much as I've done with Hunter so far. Sometimes, he lies on top of me, and I'm more than happy to feel his solid weight covering my body. But sometimes, I like to be on top too. I'm so new to this, but that's what he's there for, to show me the ropes. And to show me his werelynx ear tufts, which I've come to love playing with.

Sometimes, I've considered asking Hunter if he's ready to take the next step. But every time I've gotten close to it, something's killed the mood. Like the sun shining through the window and making my hand and/or forearm prickle and burn - which, every time that's happened, has made me let out a most un-sexy yelp of pain.

Or like what interrupts this morning's make-out.

I once looked on Urban Dictionary and found a very interesting Word of the Day - "texticle," which describes what happens when a guy gets a text while his phone is in his front pocket, and the vibration tickles his balls.

It's not just my balls getting tickled today.

When my phone goes off, Hunter gasps, and for a second, I'm scared it might have accidentally made him cream his pants. Then he reaches down and feels his own jeans pockets. "Shit," he groans. "Forgot my phone. But I was in a rush to get out this morning. Skylar was being... _vocal_ with Derek."

"Sorry you had to hear that," I say as I fish my phone out and fumble it, dropping it to the floor. Thank God my dad sprang for the military-grade protective case. I roll over to the floor myself, picking my phone up and seeing the text. From Scott, of course.

" _Morning dude sleep well?_ "

I smirk to myself. Everyone but me has been really getting some lately, and Scott (who's been rekindling his relationship with Allison) is no exception. Summer weather really gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "in heat." Especially when horny young werewolves are involved. I can only imagine how well Scott must have slept last night, but he's probably still waking up very slowly. Which would explain his unusually punctuation-light text.

" _Still not fanging out,_ " I tell him.

Hunter looms over my shoulder, reading the texts between me and Scott. "You sure you two aren't secretly an item?" he asks.

"What, a guy can't be concerned about me and not be my lover?" I laugh. "Scott's my brother, man. Not in blood, in spirit."

Hunter nods. "Wish I had someone I felt that way about. A _parabatai,_ you know?"

I chuckle at his _Mortal Instruments_ reference. He's a huge fan of Cassie Clare, as is Lydia, which has helped him bond with her. "What about your actual sister?"

"I only wish I could see eye to eye with her," Hunter says, "but at least she does so much better than our parents." His face clouds over. He hates talking about his parents. He all but ran away from them because he couldn't wait another year till he was a legal adult. Skylar's told me more about it, so I can understand him better - and realize how lucky I am to not have a homophobic (or, more accurately, biphobic) parent.

My phone vibrates again, and I expect it's from Scott - but nope. It's Derek. " _Is Hunter with you?_ " he asks. Then, before I can respond, he sends another text. " _Your dad just called me. He says there's been a murder. A vampire did it, he thinks._ "

I stiffen as I read the second message. Then I hastily type up a response. " _Are we looking into this?_ "

" _Yes,_ " he says. " _I'm bringing in everyone. Skylar thinks she knows who it is._ "

"Oh God, no," Hunter moans. He's still reading over my shoulder, or so I think. Turning around, I see he's looking up, away from me. But that doesn't stop him hearing my thoughts, I guess. Especially with our brains in such close proximity.

" _Don't tell me,_ " I say to Derek, my fingers shaking. " _Renard Senior?_ "

" _Yeah._ "

Hunter leaps off my bed and runs out the door. "He's gonna regret this!" he yells.

I trail after him, carrying the leather jacket he left behind. "We can't be sure it's your dad," I say, rushing down the stairs.

"It's him," Hunter growls. He's so angry, he's started to shift - and more than just his cute little ear tufts too. He's got his whiskers showing, and his needle-sharp teeth, and faint stripes of fur on his face too. Not to mention shiny gold cat's eyes. He swallows, bringing his appearance back to normal, then adds, "If Skylar says it's him, it's him. I trust her intuition." He turns around, reaching for the doorknob. Before he opens the door, though, he says, "You can wear my jacket if you want. It's big enough to cover you nicely."

I run back upstairs to grab the pair of sunglasses I keep in my room now, then put on his jacket along with the shades. My neck won't have much protection, but at this time of morning, the sun's rays aren't so strong anyway. I'll survive the walk to Derek's loft.

I just have to keep up with him and his long-legged stride. Not that my legs aren't long - just not as long as his.


	3. I'm Ready To Say I'm Glad To Be Alive

*****DEREK*****

After Kate Argent screwed me over in more ways than one, I never thought I'd enjoy a woman's touch again. Skylar Renard, however, has changed that.

Since she and her brother arrived in Beacon Hills on Memorial Day weekend, they've stayed in my loft, in secret (from everyone outside my pack, that is.) All through June, they've officially been nestling in sleeping bags in my room (for some reason, neither of them would take my bed.) Then, after Hunter's relationship with Danny fell apart (no surprise there), he took to sneaking out and spending the night with Stiles. He's been uncharacteristically silent about the particulars of what he and our favorite fresh vampire get up to. It doesn't matter to me, though, unless it's not mutually agreeable. Which, technically, it can't be because both boys are underage, but against my better judgment, I trust that Hunter won't hurt Stiles. Vice versa, though, that's another story.

In the meantime, while Hunter's been...exploring, I've been getting closer to Skylar. She doesn't sleep much at night - if at all, really - so I've been finding myself staying up pretty late pretty often to keep her company. We've talked a lot, learned each other's life stories - as much as we're comfortable telling each other, and there's not a lot we've kept hidden, I don't think.

It also turns out she's a big fan of _Under the Dome_ \- something we have in common, to my surprise. Last week, after the season premiere, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and her arms wrapped around me. Awkwardly, I stood up with her still clinging to my body and went to bed, unable to even take off my clothes without removing her - and she looked so sweet and gentle, completely at odds with everything I ever learned about vampires, that I didn't even want to. In the morning, when I woke up sweating through my shirt and alone in bed, I realized how much I actually craved her contact.

Last night, Skylar told me she was ready to take the next step. For the first time, I shared myself with a woman who truly wanted me as much as I wanted her. You wouldn't believe how liberating it was, letting her through my guarded outer shells and feeling those barriers break down for her.

And Stiles thinks I'm a sour wolf.

Again, I wake up and she's already out of bed. I hear the sound of the toaster doing what it was made to do, and I slide off the mattress, grabbing my underwear and my jeans and putting them on before coming out of my room. My shirt is missing, but I have a shrewd idea where I can find it. Yep - Skylar's wearing it.

" _Bonjour, monsieur_ ," she says, grinning and waving at me - I notice she's got the sleeves on my shirt rolled up so she can wear it properly. "Wheat toast? I'm never not happy you've got that on hand."

"It's...um, it's healthier than white," I say. Jesus, Derek, get all tongue-tied around a pretty girl like you're sixteen again, why don't you?

"Oh, I just love the way the whole grains feel on my tongue," she says.

"That's not the only thing you like on your tongue, is it?" I send her a wink.

She laughs, the sound as beautiful as she is, then looks down at my shirt. "Hmm. This isn't really my style." She strips down to her bra, revealing a small line of dark pink on her collarbone. She asked me to scratch her last night, and I was only too happy to oblige. I even have nearly identical scratch marks on my back, marks I can still feel because they haven't healed yet. Personally, I'd have preferred to have bitten her, because that's how we werewolves really get into it (just ask Scott and Allison...or rather don't), but that would have risked turning her. Scratching involves less exchange of bodily fluids, so it's safer. It's like the same pros and cons of condom use for humans - it's less satisfying but more healthy to go with than without.

She passes my shirt to me as she walks back to my room, and I put it on before she comes back out wearing her own shirt - and hoodie. It's going to be a hot day, this July 1st, but she's gotten used to overheating a bit under her layers while she stays protected from the sun. Just in case, though, I put on the A/C (thank God it's industrial-level) so it's a little more bearable in here for her.

I pull her into my arms and kiss her while my hand sneaks into her hood and strokes her hair. "Thank you," I whisper.

"No, thank _you_." She leans forward and nuzzles my neck - being tall for a woman, she can reach there without standing on her tiptoes. Her hands, meanwhile, come down to my lower back, with one even going so far as to disappear into the back pocket of my jeans."I know how hard it was for you to open up like that, but..."

"You made it easy, actually." I pull my hand out of her hood and tilt her chin up so I can look into her gleaming eyes. Red-rimmed they may be, and they make her look tired at all times, but that's just her vampire DNA. Other than the red, they're a magnificent greenish-blue, the color of lakes I've only ever seen in pictures. "You're perfect for me."

She laughs lightly, tickled by my compliment. And also by my phone as it vibrates in my pants pocket. "That better not be Hunter, too hungover to drive home," she says with another titter.

"He wouldn't," I say. "Would he?"

She tilts her head. "I'm sorry to say he's gotten drunk off his arse at least twice before. That I know of. Of course, with our parents hating his guts, who could blame him?"

"I thought it was just your dad."

"Mum's not so bad," she says, "but one thing I chose not to learn from her - how to be a submissive woman. Except on my own terms." She winks at me again.

I grin at her before checking my phone. Wait, it's not a text - it's a call. From Sheriff Stilinski.

Oh, hell no.

I almost drop the phone as I hasten to answer it. "Sheriff? What's happening?" I ask, feeling an agonizing sense of foreboding.

"I just got a call from this big guy, mid-twenties, lives on the outskirts of town." Stilinski pauses long enough to add, "Sound familiar?"

"Who, me?" I ask, matching his deadpan tone as best I can. "This town ain't big enough for more than one Derek Hale."

"No, this guy's a normal human," says Stilinski. "But the guy who killed his buddy? Different story." He clears his throat. "Your girlfriend's at your place now, right?"

"Uh, yeah...why?" I put my phone on speaker so Skylar can talk to the Sheriff too.

Stilinski continues in hushed tones, probably so whomever's on the other end of the line with him can't hear what comes next. "I think one of her people made this kill."

Skylar pales, as if that were even possible. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty damn."

"Bite marks on the corpse?" Skylar asks. "Two near the neck?"

"Is that someone's signature move?" Stilinski asks. Answering questions with more questions - I know a few people who might consider that a pet peeve. "I thought all vampire kills were like that."

"You barely even knew vampires were real until five weeks ago, didn't you?" I point out.

"Touché," says Stilinski. "So, Skylar, do you know who could have done this?"

"I'm afraid I do," she says. "It's-"

Stilinski cuts her off. "Not on the phone, okay? I'll bring you two into the office. Maybe then you can meet the guy who found the corpse."

I clear my throat. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"For a soldier, this guy's awfully inquisitive," Stilinski says.

A soldier? Close to my age? That must mean Afghanistan or Iraq. Not to have a Sherlock moment, but... "You didn't tell him it was a vampire, did you?"

"Hell no," Stilinski says. "I'll leave that up to you guys. You can show, not just tell him."

"Should I call in Hunter as well?" I ask.

"Yeah, we could do with his expertise." Stilinski sighs. "And since he's with Stiles right now, you might as well read him in too."

"You sure of that?" I ask, as if I'm completely innocent of any wrongdoing (emphasis on "doing") on Hunter's part.

"I saw the kid sneaking in through Stiles' bedroom window when I left the house," Stilinski says. "I haven't played connect-the-dots in years, but..."

"Understood. I'll let them know." I hang up on the Sheriff, then send a text to Hunter. Except he didn't take his phone with him when he left - and it buzzes on the couch, playing a sound clip of some mechanical voice saying, " _We jumped out a window!_ "

Skylar giggles. "I forgot he had that as his text alert. Baymax..."

"Whatever that means," I say, texting Stiles instead. He's quick to guess that Skylar and Hunter's dad may be responsible - the same theory I've got floating around my head, so I agree with him. I'll admit, it's presumptuous of me, but I've heard nothing but horror stories about Mr. Renard already. If my relationship with Skylar lasts long enough that we could be talking marriage (again, presumptuous), I'm not so sure I'd be asking this man for her hand.

I tell Stiles to come to my loft - even though I won't be here, but the rest of the pack will be. I'm texting Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Jackson to let them know to come to the loft as well. And even Aiden, who's still very eager to redeem himself after his first encounter with us.

"Hunt's not gonna like that," Skylar says as she follows me down to my Tahoe - which I've just had repaired, finally. I hope to God it doesn't get busted up again, but hopefully it won't have to face an attacker as powerful as the twins' combined super-wolf. In spite of myself, I feel a bit of regret that we'll never get to see that again - at least, not with this pair, now that one half of it is pushing daisies in my backyard.

"What's he not gonna like?" I turn the Tahoe's engine on and the A/C almost all the way up. It'd be too cold for me, and it wastes precious gas, but Skylar could do with some comfort. A little compromise between the two of us - we've agreed on it every time I take her out in this thing.

Sitting in the seat behind mine, Skylar sighs. "If it's really our father, he's going to want to come after him."

"Hunter come after your dad, or the other way around?"

"Either or, really. Tons of bad blood there."

I put the Tahoe in drive and set off, winding this boxy land yacht through the streets of Beacon Hills. The sun's shining on this blisteringly hot morning - not exactly prime conditions for a vampire to stalk around.

But at night...different story.   **  
**


End file.
